


An Unusual Kind of Stress Relief

by heeroluva



Category: King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Dream Sex, Other, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Arthur and Excalibur work out the details of their relationship.





	An Unusual Kind of Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meilan_Firaga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/gifts).



Arthur is loathed to admit that it took him so long to notice that from the moment he’d pulled Excalibur from the stone that it had been in his head. Somehow it had woven itself through his mind on such a level that it was only when Arthur really concentrated on it, that he noticed that extra something that hadn’t been there before. 

To say that Excalibur speaks to Arthur is not quite true. When a person thinks within the confines of their mind they do not speak, not words, not really. Excalibur show Arthur what he needs to see, imparting its wisdom to him, using him as its conduit at times. To suddenly himself privy to knowledge that he had no business knowing is more than a little disconcerting. 

When Arthur seeks Excalibur’s strength it answers to him easily as though it’s an extension of his body, the cool power rising through him. Arthur doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Arthur is fond of puzzles, thrives on them really, but this is one that he feels is quite beyond him. 

The first piece falls into place after an attempt on Arthur’s life in the middle of the night, the stroke of the assassin’s blade intent on cutting his throat, interrupted suddenly by Excalibur which moments before had been across the room, the sword materializing in Arthur’s hand instead of moving. The assassin is dead before Arthur is fully conscious of what had just happened. 

There’s a strange buzzing in Arthur’s head like a swarm of flies that he just can’t shake, and he barely notices the way the guards give him a wide berth when he calls them in to clean up the mess. When Wet Stick appears suddenly before him, Arthur blinks slowly watching the way his mouth moves but no sound comes out. 

When Wet Stick’s hand touches Arthur’s shoulder, he gasps as his blood suddenly feels like it’s turning to ice in his veins. 

“Art!? Are you with me, Art?” 

Wet Stick’s voice is as panicked as Arthur has ever heard it, and he struggles to raise his hands, clasping them tightly around Wet Stick’s wrist, drawing a pained hiss from him. Arthur’s eyes are drawn to Excalibur where it lays on the floor. He doesn’t remember dropping it. 

“Art, I need you to talk to me. You’re starting to worry me here, what with the glowing eyes and silence.”

Arthur opens his mouth, but before he can speak, his eyes roll back in his head as he passes out. 

When Arthur opens his eyes it’s to nothing but white light. Climbing to his feet, Arthur absently notes that he’s naked as he spins around, stopping when he sees a blue glowing orb in the distance. Arthur quickly closes the distance between it and him, circling around it curiously. “You must be Excalibur.”

_Arthur, son of Uther, last of the Pendragons. You’re a stubborn one, resisting my call. Will you serve?_

This is a game that Arthur knows well, and it’s an easy role to slip into even though he’s never been in a situation quite like this. The smirk that slides across Arthur’s face is far from innocent. “That’s a privilege that comes with a price. You don’t strike me as the type to carry coin. I’m not certain if you can afford me.”

A translucent tendril shots out too fast for Arthur to respond to, wrapping around his neck, not tight enough to hinder his breathing in any significant way, but snug enough not to be ignored. His hair stands on end at its touch, a strange buzzing sensation prickling across his skin. Arthur reaches up to yank it away, but his fingers go through it like it’s not even there. 

“Hands off the merchan—“ Arthur breaks off, choking as a second tendril abruptly shoves itself into Arthur’s mouth teasing at his gag reflex.

_That’s better. Merlin said you would be a mouthy one. Humans are so strange with their games. Why are things never straight forward with you? Now again: will you serve?_

The tendril pulls back, and Arthur glares at Excalibur. “Was that really necessary?” The tendril moves forward again threateningly, and Arthur hurries to add, “Cool it, hot shot. I don’t think we’re good enough friend for more of that so soon. You’re going to need to give me a little more to go on than that. What does serving entail?”

More tendrils shot out of the glowing orb, wrapping around his arms and legs pulling him spread eagle into the air, while other still zeroed in on sensitive places, flicking against his nipples, sliding beneath his arms and the soles of his feet, curling around his cock and balls, and rubbing against the cleft of his ass. _Magic is not meant to rule man. This is the lesson that people like Mordred and Vortigern forgot. Together we shall ensure that the balance is maintained._

“At what cost to me?” 

_Nothing dreadful I assure you. Merely a night without rest._

“And if I say no?”

_You may cast me away, but already we are bound. Only death will free you._

Arthur had done a great many strange sexual acts in his time, but fucking an enchanted sword was certainly going to take the cake. “This seems like a rather once sided deal. What do I get out of this?”

Every muscle in Arthur body suddenly tense as though he’s been struck by lightning, and his balls contract, his cock spasming with the most intense orgasm of his life. When he finally remembers how to breathe again, Arthur say, “Well that’s certainly something.”

_That is but a taste of my power. Merlin called this stress relief and building trust._

“Merlin sound like a kinky old bastard.” Arthur laughs, but breaks off when the tendrils engulf his nipples, tugging at them rhythmically as though they were trying to milk him. “What are you waiting for? An invitation in writing? Get on with it then.” 

The words had barely left Arthur’s mouth, before tendril slip into his body, spreading him wide, filling him to overflowing and then some. Losing himself in the pleasure, Arthur is certain that this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
